


Nine Things to Miss About New York in December

by J (j_writes)



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Places without snow were meant to be vacation spots, not homes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Things to Miss About New York in December

**1**

When he wakes in the mornings he misses the noise.

There is noise in LA, of course, and often that is what wakes him, but it is different in subtle ways that never cease to bother him. He lies awake in his tangled sheets and listens to the cars passing outside his window, and he misses the sounds of home.

Noise seemed to carry further in New York. Maybe it was the crisp air, or the setup of the buildings. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care. But everything seems muted here.

Everything seems less than what it used to be.

 

 **2**

By the time he’s out of the shower, he’s missing New York coffee.

He knows, in the logical parts of his mind, that coffee is coffee, no matter what coast you’re on. But the logical parts of his mind are clearly not in control when it comes to his caffeine, and the other parts tell him that LA coffee is vastly inferior to what he is used to.

He still drinks it out of the same mug, the black one with _Sports Night_ written across it, and it reminds him of another thing that he won’t allow himself to miss.

 

 **3**

He can walk to work, no matter what time of year it is.

That never ceases to amaze him. There are cabs here, but there are less of them, and they are less necessary. Because some days you need a jacket, and some days you don’t, but there’s never a day when you step outside and discover that your body has already turned around and walked back inside because of the cold.

He never thought he’d miss days like that.

He doesn’t take cabs, because he is a New Yorker, and he can take anything this city throws at him.

 

 **4**

There is a palm tree outside his office window.

For the first few weeks he would sit there and stare at it blankly as he was trying to write. It didn’t seem _right_ , somehow. Palm trees were vacation things, not workday things. There was a part of him that wanted to go outside and chop the damn thing down, but eventually he just settled for closing his blinds while he worked.

He misses the skyline. The words don’t come as easily here, and it frustrates him to no end.

He’s beginning to believe that the palm tree has cursed him.

 

 **5**

There are Christmas lights here, but it’s not the same at all.

It’s not his holiday, and he knows that it shouldn’t bother him so much, but it does. Somehow walking down the street and seeing bright bulbs lit up under a California sunset just feels unfair and wrong. They hang wreaths from the lamp posts here, and every time he sees them he cringes. They don’t belong there.

He knows that people out here have to have a Christmas, just like they do back home, but everything about it seems so fake.

Just like everything else in this city.

 

 **6**

Places without snow were meant to be vacation spots, not homes.

 _Home_ , to him, is only complete when he can sit there at his kitchen table with a big mug of hot chocolate and watch the snow fall. No lights in the apartment, just the lights of the city coming in through the window, flickering as the flakes descend in front of them.

He’s beginning to understand that LA can never be home to him, no matter how long he lives here, because when he sits in his kitchen here, the only thing he can see falling is the rain.

 

 **7**

He misses the anonymity of the city.

He often heard that the Northeast was the most unfriendly place in the country, and he’d never quite believed it. Now he understands that what people mistake for friendliness is actually a sense that everyone’s business is also everyone else’s business. He doesn’t get approached for autographs as much, because this is LA, and celebrity is very blasé here. But people like to talk to him, pretend they know him, and that bothers him a lot more.

He misses the days when he could walk down the street without anyone making eye contact.

 

 **8**

There’s a bar down the street, and he goes there sometimes after work.

He’s a regular now, and there are other regulars. They get along just fine, but they aren’t friends. They never talk about the important things, the things they really want to talk about. Instead, he talks about work, and Tom complains about his nagging wife, and Blake shows them pictures of his new baby because he’s still at that stage where everything the kid does is a miracle.

Dan listens to them, and commiserates with Tom, and smiles appropriately at the pictures.

He envies them their happiness.

 

 **9**

It is only at night that he lets himself miss Casey.

He lies awake in bed and listens to the rain fall on his roof, and he thinks about him. There are so many memories, and sometimes he’ll forget something and wish that he could pick up the phone and say, “hey, remember when…”

He never does.

Instead he lies alone in a city where he will never belong, and when he wakes in the morning to its unfamiliar noises, he finds that his pillow is damp with the tears he won’t allow himself to shed while he is awake.


End file.
